Enemies were there in his dream too?
All his grey hair
Turned into a Golden spiral
At the barber shop in Heaven
And he watched in the mirror
Myriads of Barbers
Behind him
With sharp razors?
to all my friends!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Haircut.
The Barber came to cut my hair,
I told him that it wasn't fair.
My hair had done him no harm,
Without it I would loose my charm.
The Barber he grinned a silly grin,
Said to cut my hair would be no sin.
That I should face it like a man,
But I'm a coward and away I ran.
Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,
With him chopping away your lovely hair.
Once my head was full of curls,
Covering my face with twisty twirls.
But then the Barber came my way,
I was a child, I had no say.
Off came my curls one by one,
The Barber seemed to have great fun.
Now I'm old and very grey,
I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.
But when I see a Barbers chair,
I feel the loss of my curly hair.
You know I truly rue the day,
When that first Barber came my way.
poem by Bernard Shaw
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This Morning At The Barbershop
This morning at the barbershop,
a barber is busy with the hair
of a much older grey haired man
that he is trimming neatly
and a young man
sits in one of the barber’s chairs.
When I sit down to wait
the young man rises
turning to me
and asks if he can cut my hair.
I was happy to get attention immediately
while the other barber was finishing
with the older man,
as he looks to finely tuned to me.
My hair was smartly cut
with a pair of scissors
and the young barber
held his fingers
to determine the length
and I wanted it shorter
than just cutting off the ends
while the other barber
first took a hair blower
from a drawer,
sprayed something over his own hair
before he started to blow it in the mirror
and he then said
that he cannot go
to the bank to wait in line
with a head looking like Tut’s ass
and I saw my locks
falling dark brown
with dots of grey around me
and saw the other barber
combing his long hair
and smiled at myself
about the vanity of humanity
while I looked at myself
and were starting to look much better.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Withered grass on the playground
In the morning I dropped my grandson
to the Kindergarten
And I watched a Father plays football
with his daughter.
My inquisitive mind traveled
to the bygone years,
How my poor Mom was sitting in the tuck-shop
and watched my acrobats in the playground?
I like to go to school again
But my loving Mom I don't know your whereabouts
with my old books?
I am old now and see the nearby burial grounds
Some stray dogs play with their puppies?
'No man is poor who has had a godly mother.'
-Abraham Lincoln
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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An aged Woman poses in front of a shattered mirror?
The rusty pincers she holds
With shivering fingers
And she plucks her grey hair
Here & there
She noticed in the eye brows too
few appears?
Dark rings below the eyes
And wrinkles on her forehead.
She smiles with the mirror
And mutters; 'No change at all the secret smile
But what happened to my youthful Elasticity? '
She realized for the first time in her life
That mirrors too speak sometimes?
'Madam! I am there with you
even in your fleeing beauty? '
*[God made woman from man's rib-not from his head to top him, nor from his feet to be walked upon, but from his side to be his partner in life, from under his arm to be protected by him, and near his heart to be loved by him.]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The colour of between black and white
Wounds are so painful and I do believe that the nature heals.
My deceased loving Mother always tells in her soft voice.
The precious love also penetrates and never soothes?
Mom I found your grey hair within me in the mirror.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Red Cow Speaks with Deeds!
Passing the slaughter house
The barber stops for a while
And he feels his previous birth
That he's a cow!
Now I cut the hair
From a child to an adult
Never do a sin
And the mirror knows
But no way to express her emotions?
When I use the razor for shaving
I'll be very patient
Specially on butcher's throat
As still I feel that enormous pain
And what he did in my previous birth?
(For Dorothy A.Holmes apwlts2 in gratitude!)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Pure Woman
Sometimes when I pass the dressing shop
in between the barber's and butcher's junk
a bride in a show case lean and beautiful
smiles at all and never cries
never speaks and sleeps.
A bouquet in her hand
the flowers that never withers
and a clear white lace she wears
that will never fade.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Olympic Games started with a bang!
I too watched the grand spectacle
in my old T.V.,
Really it's beautiful
and a superb pageant!
But I have a regret
and a sad poem gathers in my heart of the colonial
poor friends who left behind?
They could run faster than Jaguar when in hunger
But unfortunately their loose-leaf passports were not endorsed
for flying overseas because they're still rural village birds
bare-footed?
[It's good to have an end to journey towards;
but it's the journey that matters, in the end.]-Le Guin
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Mirror Mirror
Mirror mirror
You tell lies
Who put crows feet
Round my eyes?
Mirror mirror
Hanging there
Who put that grey
In my hair?
Mirror mirror
Is that me
Is that really
Me I see?
Mirror Mirror
Stop your fun
That's not me
That is my mum
Mirror mirror
Don't stare back
For it's bad luck
If you should crack
Mirror mirror
On days like these
When what I see
Doesn't please
Mirror mirror
My mood this day
Will ask you turn
The other way!
poem by Stevie Taite
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Boardinghouse by the riverside
He has lost his youthful idealism.
The old bachelor sips his mug of coffee,
She stirred well the spinster Landlady.
I have no idea any further,
But he's a boarder with the rest two,
A barber and a bankrupt fisherman.
Bachelor depends on his pension
And he dreams all the time,
If he marries this stingy lady
by an accident he could buy
The fisherman's selling boat
and live happily by fishing?
[We are always the same age inside.-Stein]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Where all the poor in the village were buried?
Is this a cemetery?
The Gypsy Tinker, Negro Blacksmith, Grey-bearded Barber, One eyed Arabian butcher, Native Hangman & the family and the rest of all hide somewhere,
Nobody knows to point out so and so as no tombs were found there.
The flat graves show their innocence and poverty.
'Where is she? ' Hangman asks.
Butcher says; 'All are here brother and they are in a deep sleep.'
Hey! Now it's a playground for the children being a promise of the deceased dumb Mayor.
* Dedication to all the poet friends in the site.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I feel the secret palpitation of her soft heart!
She resembles
The actress,
'Ava Gardner.'
The Lady cashier
in a smoke shop.
And I told her to give me
A Dutch Masters Vanilla cigar
She asked my date of birth.
I said; 'Exactly sixty one today! '
Then she replied with a familiar smile.
'You look younger than your age.
Believe me I am not kidding.'
[Age does not protect you from love.But love, to some extent, protects you from age.-Moreau]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I'll Get One Tomorrow
Barber, barber, come and get me;
Hairy torrents irk and fret me.
Hair and hair again appears;
And climbs like ivy round my ears.
Hair across my collar gambols;
Down my neck it wayward ambles.
Ever down it trip it tickles;
Yes, where it trips it tickles.
Barber dear I wish I knew;
Why i do not visit you.
Why I grudge the minutes ten;
In your smiling den.
Why I choose to choke on hair;
Rather than to mount your chair.
Men no busier than I;
Weekly to your office hie.
Men no busier than myself;
Confront the armory on your shelf;
Men no wealthier than me;
Gladly meet your modest fee.
And for a fraction of a dollar;
Keep the jungle off their collar.
I alone am shy and flustered;
Solitary, cowardly custard.
Shaggy as a prize angore;
Overrun with the creeping flora.
Barber, barber, you’re in luck;
The bell has rung, the hour has struck.
Sloth strong, the hair is strong;
I cannot stand it any long.
Barber, barber here I come;
Shake up the odorous bay rum.
Bring on your shears your scythes, your snippers;
Bring on your crisp electric driers.
Employ a dozen extra sweepers;
Bring giant harvesters and reapers.
I warn you a bumper crop;
Waits to overwhelm your shop.
Braber, barber, be verbose;
Be anything but clip me close.
Leave me razored, leave me scissored
Leave me hairless, as a lizard;
Barber, barber, single and scald;
Barber can’t you make me bald?
I will be the happiest of men;
And never think of you again.
poem by Ogden Nash
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The faded identity
I lost it somewhere and in the mirror I watched my face,
It's not me somebody else that resembles the lunatic who drowned in the singing river on a full moon day?
* To those who drowned in shallow waters.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Braille!
When he sings from afar
I know that he's singing for me
But I do not see him
Though he sings besides me?
And this strange lover
always ask my Religion, not my name
And I say 'Braille! '
for Irene Ryder-'Nobody's child'
'I'd walk the streets of Heaven where all the blind can see? '
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Razors Edge
(razors edge)
(razors)
Theres fighting on the left
And marching on the right
Dont look up in the sky
Youre gonna die of fright
Here comes the razors edge
Youre living on the edge
Dont know wrong from right
Theyre breathing down your neck
Youre running out of lives
And here comes the razors edge
Here comes the razors edge
The razors edge
Razors edge, to raise the dead
Razors edge, to cut to shreds
To raise the dead
Here comes the razors edge
Here comes the razors edge
Well here it comes to cut to shreds
The razors edge
The razors edge [its the razors edge]
Gotta razors edge [well, the razors edge]
Youll be cut to shreds [that youll be cut to shreds]
By the razors edge [gotta razors edge]
Gotta razors edge [by the razors edge]
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twin sisters in an Emporium
A destitute stands infront of the shop
And he thinks if rains he could have jump inside.
The twin sisters smiled with him and inquired what he wants?
'Precious smiles are more worth than anything in the shop.'
The innocent muttered.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A twitter bird cries?
I hear early in the morning
on a Cypress branch
That covered with snow flakes.
O this sad song!
'How do we bear all these pains
and we have little hearts
One of our friends
passed away two days back
a songbird!
Is God too dies? '
to Harriet Beecher Stowe for her 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Accentuated Curls
To twist around is a crime
It will distract the follicles
From being so sublime
The scissors dance around my curls
Waltzing through my particles
As barber John around me whirls
And sings- a jubilant, Italian song
And other barbers sign along
To juicy, creamy melodies,
While mirrors show my vanities
And carefree and distorted
The hair will be rewarded
With admiration from the rest
All people will boldly attest
That my hair is so wonderful,
That my hair is so beautiful,
That my hair has much grace
And it distracts from that hideous, grotesque face.
poem by Sasha Ioffine
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The disabled and his faithful crutches!
'We must so grateful to you
As wherever you go never forget
to take us there,
But what may happen to us
Suddenly you stopped? '
Crutches muttered to the humble man.
Then he said: 'I too must thankful to you
for carrying me without any grumble
Whenever I want to go somewhere
And I am sure in my absence
Somebody would take care of you.'
Yes, I watched their great harmony
and any prize for their companionship
in this kind World?
[Taking the prize,21 years later,
Daw Aung San Suu Kyi of Myanmar accepted a belated Nobel peace prize! ]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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